


Constellations

by vaenire



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Plants, ish, series of drabbles tbh, they live in an apartment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:24:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/vaenire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Javert never dreamed it would end up like this. That night when the stars were so dark, his life was so dark; he never imagined it was but the dark before the dawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constellations

It was a rare day when Javert could sit around and rest. 

He hated it.

Valjean was off visiting Cosette or volunteering at a shelter or giving his money away or whatnot, and Javert had come home early from work, thinking he might get ahead on writing up some reports.  
He did. Two hours ago. And Valjean was still not home. Where could he be? Javert was sure the man wouldn’t tell him even if he asked. 

Javert sighed, just as bored as before and without anything to entertain him. He looked about the small apartment. They didn’t have a TV because Javert would never usually have time to watch it and Valjean would rather read, and they didn’t own a computer because Javert dislikes that prospect of technologic progress. There was one bookcase in the corner of the room, full of Valjean’s theological texts and some of Cosette’s items she had yet to collect. The walls were white and there was one table with two chairs in the living room. It was a small apartment, and bland in décor, but that was fine with Javert. It’s nicer than some places he’s lived.

Looking out his window, he sees the building across the little alley. Bees buzzed around a vine growing around the window pane. That gave Javert an idea…

An hour and a half later, he nudged the door open with his foot and quickly set down the heavy bags on the table. Valjean had returned, and was reading there. 

“What’s this?” he asked, intrigued, putting down whatever text he was reading. A Bible by the looks of it.

“I’m going to—” Javert cut himself off, suddenly realizing how ridiculous it may sound to Valjean. He peered at the other man silently before, well, to hell with it. “I’m going to put some flowers outside our window. I have a window planter and watering can and soil and seeds. I just need to plant them.” Javert’s eye darted to the window. Valjean didn’t say anything, just started looking through the bags.

“And have you ever planted anything before?” Valjean asked, in that fatherly voice of his. Javert shrank from it; had he messed up? Did he miss something? 

He paused before responding, “No.” 

“Then I will help you. What type of seeds did you get?” He asked, pulling out the little packets. 

Two hours and a bag of soil later, as Valjean fastened the planter now full of dirt to the window, Javert looked down at his hands. They were filthy, a dark brown, and his nails were black with dirt beneath them. The sleeves of his shirt were lightly stained also, and that was moderately upsetting, but looking at what he had accomplished with Valjean, it was totally worth it. There was dirt on the floor, too, so Javert went to fetch the broom. Valjean was washing his hands, and Javert was somewhat disgruntled to see that the man had not a speck of dirt anywhere else on him. How?

As he swept, Valjean wiped down the table. It was unfamiliarly domestic for Javert. It was strange to think how only a year ago Javer would’ve taken this scene for the impossible, strange how well it worked.  
Even five months ago his mind could not wrap his mind around a relationship with the former convict. If Valjean had experienced similar doubts, however, Javert saw no such sign. How? He found himself questioning the existence of the man before him more and more the more he considered him. 

“So what brought this about, Javert? I didn’t have you pegged as a gardener,” Valjean asked, wringing out the rag he’d been using. 

Javert didn’t understand the question at first, too deep in his own thoughts, but soon his head caught up. “I don’t know. I thought it would be… nice. I guess. Why?” 

When Javert looked up from the dust pan he had been fiddling with, he caught a quick glimpse of a fond smile on Valjean face before the older man turned away. 

“What?” Javert demanded, dumping the dust pan into the garbage. “What was that look for?” 

Valjean put on his ‘innocent’ face and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean?”

Javert scrutinized those dark eyes for a moment before deeming it a lost cause. Cryptic old man. “Fine. It is getting late though, and I have an early shift tomorrow.” He grabbed a snack bar and went to the bedroom to sleep before Valjean could say a thing. Valjean just shook his head and turned back to cleaning up the kitchen. 

The two of them still had miscommunication, and Javert never seemed to not be tense. Every little thing needed to be explained to him before he was comfortable. He was like what Valjean imagined a skittish cat would be like. 

Valjean had many things to be thankful for; a loving daughter and son-in-law; freedom; and that man, one that he had feared for so many long years, now his to be held by and hold. Only a half year ago he feared that this was not true, that his feelings were unreciprocated. Valjean smiled to himself as he washed his hands and got ready for bed. 

He was glad those days were over.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Hi everyone I have a survey[here](http://lilsnit.polldaddy.com/s/randomfanatic-writing) that I would love if you could fill out to help me improve my writing. **  
>  It's pretty much a specific review that will give me some info I'm looking for  
> Thanks (`3`)


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